


Not A Second Time

by DemonDean10



Series: The Saga of John and Brian [9]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Up, references to past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 06:40:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18805777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonDean10/pseuds/DemonDean10
Summary: the follow up to I'm Looking Through You, when Brian gave John a concussion while high.Will John forgive him?





	Not A Second Time

**Author's Note:**

> C8  
> I hope u like
> 
> there's probably going to be a follow up to this follow up

John was sleeping in Paul’s bed, the bassist keeping a watchful eye on him. Brian had given him a concussion. Had their manager done things like this before? Did it happen often and Paul hadn’t noticed? He felt guilty for letting this happen and was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

 

He went down to the kitchen to make some tea, surely John would appreciate once he woke up. Paul also fed Martha, who sensed her master’s upset mood and rubbed her shaggy head against his stomach. 

 

John appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking groggy. 

 

Paul led him to a stool and served him a cuppa, “Here.”

 

John took it, eyes tired, “Ta, macca.”

 

Paul sat down next to him, “How do you feel?”

 

“I…” John cleared his throat, “Still a bit knackered. Bit of a headache.”

 

Paul waited for a few moments before speaking, “Johnny...what happened?”

 

John ran a hand across his face, “I don’t remember much.” His voice wasn’t slurred anymore, though he did tumble over some sounds.

 

His partner stared at the countertop, “The doctor, he said Brian gave you a concussion.” He looked up. 

 

But John was avoiding his gaze. 

 

Paul took a sip of his tea, “Is that true?” He ventured. 

 

John found he was holding back tears, damn concussion messing with his composture. He sniffed quietly, “Does it matter?”

 

Paul’s tone was gentle, “Yes, John. If Brian hurt you-”

 

“He didn’t mean to, he was high.” John wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Paul or himself. 

 

Paul felt himself grow angry, “So he did.”

 

John knew there was no point trying to lie to Paul. He spoke, “He, uh, pushed me out of a room. I hit the corner of a table, after that it gets fuzzy.” He sniffed again. 

 

Paul prepared himself for an answer, “Johnny...has he ever hit you before?”

 

John didn’t answer and Paul’s blood went cold. He put a hand on his partner’s shoulder, “John?”

 

“One time.” John whispered, looking down. “A few years ago.”

 

Paul groaned and stood up, “Jesus christ-”

 

John looked up, “I deserved it! I was being an arse!” And he had been. John had been feeling horrible that day and Brian had received the blunt of his sadness and anger. He’d called his manager every horrible name in the book, tone vicious and unforgiving. Brian had been close to crying. John shook his head, “He was just-”

 

Paul gaped at him, “Just what!?”

 

John hunched over, “...hurt.”

 

Paul thought for a moment. “It was during the first film, right? He gave you that bruise?” John had shown up on set one day with a blue and purple mark on his cheek one day, said a door had hit him. It had happened before, so Paul had just laughed. 

 

John scoffed, “‘Bruise’? It was nothing.”

 

“Enough to have to be covered in makeup.” Paul countered. 

 

John finished his tea. “He apologized. I’ve forgiven him.” Had he though?

 

Paul stared at him, “And now you have a concussion.”

 

“He...Brian just…” And John broke down crying, tears escaping his eyes. 

 

Paul drew him into a hug, putting his head over his friend’s. “Just let it out, Johnny. It’s okay.”

 

* * *

 

John was sleeping on the couch, Martha on top of his legs. Paul was on the phone with George, explaining that John was unable to record at the moment. 

 

His younger bandmate sounded concerned, “What was it this time? What did he take?”

 

Paul shook his head, “Nothing like that, he uh….fell down and hit his head. He’s be alright soon.”

 

George sighed in relief, “Alright, take care of him.”

 

Paul smiled, “I will.”

 

Then he called Ringo, who sounded even more worried. 

 

“Should I tell Brian?” The drummer asked. 

 

Paul’s tone was cold, “Oh, he already knows.”

 

Ringo sounded suspicious over the phone, “Okay…” He told Paul to take of their leader as well, which Paul appreciated. 

 

Once he’d done that, he called the grocery store that delivered his groceries and ordered some cornflakes and chocolate olivers along with some other food. John would be hungry when he woke up and he couldn’t take his meds on an empty stomach.

 

John woke up to the smell of soup, which Paul was setting on his lap in a tray. He smiled softly, “Thanks, Macca.”

 

Paul sat down on the couch as his friend ate, “What are you going to do?”

 

John blew in his spoon to cool it, “Has he called?”

 

Paul shook his head. 

 

John looked up at his friend, “Can I stay here?” He didn’t have the energy to go and pretend everything was okay and dandy with Cynthia.

 

Paul smiled, “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

Two days passed before Paul received a call from Brian. 

 

Paul turned hostile the moment he heard the voice on the other side. “What do you want?”

 

Brian sounded like a right mess, “I, I was hoping to talk to John.”

 

Paul scoffed, “Forget it.”

 

“Paul, I-”

 

John appeared from the top of the stairs and called out to Paul, “Who is it?”

 

Paul pressed the phone against his shoulder and sighed, “It’s Brian.”

 

John’s curious look fell and he shook his head quickly. 

 

Paul got back on the phone, “He doesnt want to talk to you.”

 

“Just, tell him I love him. And I am sorry.”

 

“Goodbye, Brian.” Paul hung up. 

 

John had gone down the stairs and he was playing with his hands, “I, I’m not ready.” He wasn’t eager to listen to Brian’s apologies. 

 

Paul put a hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay, John. That’s okay.”

 

The two of them smiled to each other and went back into the music room. 

 

* * *

 

The next day a package arrived. Paul had picked it up and seen that it was addressed to John, even with the address to Cavendish. Reluctantly, he’d given it to John. “Brian sent this.”

 

John was ashamed of the excitement he felt as he got the package, but that didn’t stop him from practically destroying the box as he opened it. Out of it he got a bang which he squished and felt something soft inside. “Did anything else come with it?”

 

“Just this.” Paul passed a card along. 

 

John opened it. It contained only a small letter with the words,  _ ‘I love you’ -B _ . Ridiculously cheesy, yet it made John feel warm. He then opened the bag and gasped as a round and fluffy stuffed walrus came out. While on vacation with Brian, he’d spotted a large walrus on top of a rock and he’d been fascinated. Clearly, Brian remembered. 

 

Paul raised his eyebrows, “That’s it?”

 

John frowned, “I love it.”

 

Hearing his defensive tone, Paul raised in hands in surrender and said nothing else. 

 

That night John slept with the walrus close to his heart.

* * *

 

The next day something else arrived, flowers. Paul just took them with a roll of his eyes. 

 

John’s eyes lit up as he saw them and he hurried to pick them up. They were pick daisies, John’s favourite. Of course, he never said that because what kind of self-respecting Liverpudlian man said that he loved pink daisies. 

 

They had a card too,  _ ‘Beautiful flowers for a beautiful man’ -B.  _ John smiled gently. Paul shook his head. 

 

The day after that another package arrived for John and Paul disapproved even more. It was a silk robe, actually two. A thinner see-through one came out of a thick and warm blue robe. John put it on immediately and slept on it. 

 

But Paul finally spoke up the day Brian sent a cat, an actually kitten. John was on the floor petting her when Paul decided to say something, “John?”

 

John hummed to show he was listening. His concussion was gone and the meds had finished. 

 

Paul sighed, “Listen, all these presents are nice and all. But you have to talk to Brian before you make any decisions.” His tone was firm, “He can’t do this again.”

 

John glared up at him, “I know that, Paul. I’m not an idiot.”

 

Paul sat down beside him, “I just saying.”

 

John looked down at the kitten, “It’s just….its been a while since he’s, since he’s been this nice.” He shook his head, “I mean- attentive.”

 

Paul didn’t like this, “John…”

 

“No, I meant…” John sighed, “We’ve become distant with the drugs, the both of us. Our connection has wavered, I didn’t think he still cared.”

 

Paul was quiet for a moment. Then, “Talk to him.” He said again, “You deserve it.”

 

John looked at him, “Could you call him? I want to see him.”

 

“...okay.” Paul agreed, still not happy with the man. 

 

* * *

 

When the door opened, Brian expected to see John not an angry Paul McCartney. The bassists glared down at the flowers Brian was holding and the manager put them down. 

 

“Oh, hello, Paul.” Brian said with a nervous smile. 

 

Paul’s eyes were cold, “Epstein.”

 

Brian wasn’t used to this Paul, this cold non-polite Paul. But it made sense, Brian had hurt the person they both care so much about. He didn’t deserve Paul’s kindness. “Can I come in?”

 

Paul raised his eyebrow, “Are you going to give John another concussion?”

 

Brian closed his eyes, “No, of course not.”

 

Paul stared at him for a moment then stepped aside. He grabbed Brian’s elbow as he passed. He scowled at him, “Hurt him again and you’re finished.” They both knew he meant it. 

 

Brian went into the living room as Paul headed upstairs. He spotted John on the couch, wearing the robe he’d gotten him and petting the cat. He stayed in the doorway, “Hello, John.”

 

John visibly tensed. “Hey.”

 

Brian offered the flowers, “These are for you.”

 

John put Mr.Tickles down and stood up, walking towards Brian. He took the daisies, “Thank you.” He went to put them in the same vase as the others.

 

Brian cleared his throat, “You’re wearing the robe.”

 

John shrugged, “It’s comfortable.” 

 

This John wasn’t acting angry, he was being unemotional and unconcerned. It wasn’t the John Brian knew, not for years. “John-”

 

“I want to speak first.” John interrupted, going back to the sofa. “Sit down.” He gestured to the seat in front of him. 

 

Brian did as told. 

 

John sighed and shook himself, looking straight at Brian. “I’m willing to move on from this.”

 

Brian let out a breath, “Oh, thank-”

 

“But,” John interrupted with a strong tone, “Some things need to change.” He went through his mental list. “First, this whole past year I’ve been lonely and sad and buried in drugs and you….didn’t notice? Or didn’t care or I don’t know. I know things have been similar for you. We had agreed on leaving drugs before, I think we should commit to that.” John took a deep breath, “Speaking of drugs. Those partied you have with your fancy friends...you excluded me and they laughed at me. Those people encourage you to get high off your arse and go wild...and that’s going to kill you. I can’t have that.” John scoffed, “They’re horrible people and they’re not your friends.”

 

Brian knew that. Of course they weren’t his friends, but they were the ones with the drugs. 

 

“I don’t want t’be alone at parties, Brian.” John kept going, “You know I’m not good with big crowds, especially of people I don’t know well. So if you’re going to invite me and take me away from my sleep or whatever, actually be with me. Okay?”

 

Brian nodded, “Of course.”

 

John sighed, “And finally….” His tone was firm and his eyes held a warning, “Don’t you ever lay a hand on me again. Or I will destroy you and your career.” 

 

“I’d have nothing else.” Brian answered. He sat up straight and looked at his lover, “I am so sorry, John. I have been foolish and undeserving of your love. I know there is no excuse.” He reached for John’s hand and was glad when John gave it. “But I promise I  _ will _ do better.” He kissed the hand he held, “I will devote myself you, John. I love you.” Brian shook his head, “I’m sorry I’ve been distant, there has been so much going on and nothing at the same time. I’ve done a piss poor job at handling the change.”

 

The change was, of course, the band not touring anymore. John knew Brian struggled with this decision and part of him felt guilty for it. “I’m sorry too.”

 

But Brian shook his head, “Do not be sorry, John. I’m the one to blame here. I have been cruel to you and I can only be thankful that you’ve allowed yourself to forgive me.”

 

John smiled and squeezed Brian’s hand, “Of course. I love you.” He nodded, “We’ll both be better.”

 

Brian leaned close and John met him for a kiss, it was small and chaste. 

 

“I will never hurt you again, doll.” Brian promised, “You mean the world to me.”

 

John crawled into his lap and kissed him again. 

 

Brian held him close and slipped a hand under the robe, then stopped. “You’re not wearing any clothes.” He whispered.

 

John smirked and shrugged, “Take me home?”

 

Brian grinned at the word home and pressed a warm kiss to John’s cheek, “Of course.”

 

John laughed as Brian led him out of the house. He’d come to speak with Paul and pick up his things tomorrow, but he wanted to be with Brian first. Things were looking up, he knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> comments r my friends


End file.
